Strings
by Angel251
Summary: After Sasori's death, Kisame finds himself compelled to babysit the Puppet Master's ex girlfriend.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I do not own anything to do with Naruto and this is being written purely for entertainment not money.**

One

Sasori had very few regrets in his life, despite what many would consider an existence of excess, violence and manipulation he was at peace with what he had seen and done. Only one thing haunted him, one woman who worked herself into his thoughts continuously. He had met her long after leaving the Sand Village, when he was well on his way to turning his body into that of a puppet. He had been in between missions for the Akatsuki, and was searching a small village in the Land of Fire for his next masterpiece when he saw her.

She was small and unassuming; cute with her large eyes and pretty features. Her figure was dainty; she was almost the size of a child. She was nothing like any creation he had ever made, normally being drawn to powerful subjects, and so she might have escaped his notice. But fate was against her, the both of them in truth, because the moment she saw him she gasped in alarm and rushed to his side.

He was startled by her actions, and when she spoke he was even more surprised.

"You poor thing, you're hunched over and limping," she soothed in a voice like silk, placing her tiny hands on his stooped shoulders. "Where are you trying to go? Let me help you."

Sasori stared at her, dumbfounded. People were either terrified or put off by the shuffling puppet body he hid inside. No one had ever approached him with such ease or sympathy, and he wasn't sure how to react. At close range, he could smell her, and it was a surprisingly pleasant fragrance that caused him to become acutely aware of her loveliness. He blinked at her, not sure what to say, and completely unaccustomed to being speechless.

She frowned at his silence, and he noticed her mouth was full and lush. She gently patted his back, her hand brushing down the curve. He was surprised he could feel the sensation inside the puppet; he knew the touch had to be light yet he seemed attuned to it. "I can't believe your family let you go out alone. Are you lost?"

It was obvious she thought he was elderly, and he was irrationally angry at her presumption. He was a powerful warrior, one of the dreaded Akatsuki, not some doddering old man. How could she not see that?

Logic prevailed before he told her as much; he was here in disguise, and what did it matter if some simple village girl thought him old?

Just then, she led him to a nearby bench, applying light pressure to his shoulder so he found himself sitting almost before he realized he'd done it. She stood in front of him with a worried look, her hands clasped as she leaned down to study him. She reached out to brush his forehead and he leaned away out of reflex, not wanting her to uncover his puppet's face.

She paused, her hand outstretched. "Forgive me for being forward; I just want to make sure you don't have a fever."

At close range, she really was a lovely thing. Her body was flawless. Sasori was surprised by the realization that he found her attractive. It had been some time since his body had expressed interest in physical gratification; so much of it was mechanical now that he had assumed he was beyond feeling lust. At the moment, it was telling him otherwise.

It would be simple to have her; he was a master of suggestion after all. He could simply use her good intentions to lure her to his workshop.

"I am fine," he finally whispered in his harsh voice, pleased to notice she didn't draw away from him upon hearing it. She was such an unusual female. "I was on my way home."

"On foot," she guessed, her expression clearly scandalized. "I insist you let me help you there."

How easily she walked into his trap; and he felt another flare of anger for her casual disregard of her own safety. He would have to insist she be more alert, once she was his.

The thought brought him up short; he was unaccustomed to feeling possessive of anything but his puppets. His common sense warned him to let her go, but his body was having none of that. It had been years since he desired a woman, and he intended to have her.

"That would be most kind of you," he heard himself say.

She smiled at him and insisted it was nothing; she then placed her arm around his waist to help him get back up. His body throbbed with awareness at her closeness; the puppet between them an unbearable barrier. It took considerable will to keep from accosting her right there in the street. Such an utter lack of discipline appalled him.

As they were walking to his shop, she asked him for his name. He told her Hiruko, for some reason not wanting her to associate his true name with a body she thought of as old. Her name was Omizu. She was a very outgoing young woman; frank in her speaking. She didn't talk too much, seeming to sense that he disliked chatter, which struck him as highly perceptive and odd. Normally people couldn't read his demeanor that well.

Ironic then that she thought he was an elderly man; she picked up on the subtle nuances in his behavior but was completely fooled by his appearance. She was very kind, and perhaps he should have felt guilty for planting a suggestion in her mind while she walked him home, but her proximity had set him into an intense state of sexual longing. He simply had no wish to let her leave him unscathed.

When they arrived at his shop, she was a bit out of breath from supporting his weight, which he had obligingly leaned against her just to feel her heat. She helped him into his house and then dropped down on a seat. She was sweating, and fanned herself with her hands to cool down.

"Thank you for your assistance," he murmured, "I will have my companion Sasori bring you something to drink."

She sent him a grateful smile, completely unaware that the suggestion he had imprinted in her mind had been triggered by hearing his name. "Thank you, that would be wonderful."

He left the room, going into the back where his workshop was, and flung Hiruko's shell off of him. His nerves were singing with an anticipation he hadn't felt in ages. He had no idea why she aroused him so, but there could be no doubt that she did. He was almost tripping over his own feet in his eagerness to get back to her, he realized with bemusement. He took a deep breath, struggling for composure, and then went back into his living room.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Sasori entered the living room with as much poise as he could manage, considering he had just run to the kitchen to get the glass of water he'd forgotten he had promised he would bring her. Omizu was leaning back in her seat, her eyes half closed, clearly relaxing after hauling his much heavier body for miles. He paused in the doorway to study her, trying to find what it was about her that had excited him so much.

She was pretty but he'd seen lovelier; her body was small but perfect for its size. Still, in the past he had favored women with a bit more curve. She had long, dark hair and her doe eyes were brown; again nothing out of the ordinary, nevertheless he found her compelling in the extreme.

He moved into the room and her eyes flew open; she sat up and then went still when she saw him. And, for the first time in a long while, Sasori was pleased with the way his true appearance left her speechless. He was aware that he was an extremely attractive man but he normally cared nothing for that fact. He admired beauty, to be sure, but didn't dwell on his own.

However, he felt a burst of pride as her eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly; he hadn't told her his name yet and so her reaction was a genuine one; not induced by his suggestion. His body responded to her approval, he had been semi aroused since meeting her and now his erection reached almost painful fullness. He was going to make love to the girl until she collapsed.

"Hiruko asked me to see to your needs," he said as he made his way to the seat, his eyes locked with hers. "My name is Sasori; it's a pleasure to meet you."

If anyone in his acquaintance could hear him at that moment, they would have been struck stupid with disbelief. Sasori was not one for small talk and certainly not polite. Of course, they'd never seen him trying to get into a woman's pants before either.

Omizu stiffened when he said his name, and he knew his suggestion had been fully triggered. She would find him irresistible now, and would experience the same longing he had suffered from all day. He had no intention of letting her suffer though. He watched as a delicate blush spread across her cheeks and he couldn't help wondering what she was thinking.

Omizu had been shocked by the appearance of Sasori. He was incredibly gorgeous, with shocking red hair and the most unusual eyes. He was like some exotic animal and she'd been staring at him from the moment he came into her range of vision. She knew it was rude but she couldn't help herself. When he spoke, his voice was incredibly sensual; she could feel it in her blood.

As he approached her, she felt the growing urge to rip his clothes off and see if his body was as magnificent as his face. She'd never been one to indulge in casual sex but she wanted this man badly. She was having the most graphic images of him and it startled her; she could feel her face turning red as he drew near.

At close range Sasori could easily see she was in a state of arousal; her eyes were dark and her breathing slightly hitched. Exercising iron control, he carefully handed her the glass of water he'd gotten for her, aware she needed to hydrate before he had his way with her. That he was considerate of her condition was unprecedented but he thought nothing of it.

Omizu nervously accepted the glass and then kept her eyes fixed on the floor while she drank the water. Looking at Sasori disturbed her; she wasn't used to such a lack of self control. She was far too aware of his presence and she was ashamed to be feeling this way for a virtual stranger.

Sasori saw the look of unease on her face and realized rather abruptly that she really was a good girl; she was feeling guilty for desiring him. He hadn't anticipated such a reaction from such a sexually appealing young woman; not that he thought women did nothing but sleep around all day. Still, he knew many women were very modern as far as their sexuality was concerned. She didn't seem to be one of those women.

With a sigh, he considered his options. He knew very well that his suggestion would impel her to sleep with him. All he had to do was wait and she would succumb. The other option was to initiate contact; and then she could blame him in the morning instead of herself. Why he was even bothering being concerned about it, he couldn't say. He almost reconsidered the whole thing simply because it was making him have so many conflicting reactions.

However his body had thoughts of its own, and of its own volition his hand reached out to cup her chin, tilting her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You are so beautiful it makes me want to kiss you."

Omizu's eyes widened in astonishment at his bold words whispered in a voice husky with need. She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her; before leaning in to him to whisper, "I was thinking the same thing."

Relief washed through Sasori, quickly followed by hunger. She had more or less given her assent, so he leaned down and kissed her as he'd wanted to do for hours. He kissed her softly for all of two seconds, and then she slid her hands up into his hair and pressed her body close to his. Raw lust had him trying to devour her in a matter of moments. He was inundated by wild, reckless urges that left him stunned in the wake of their savagery.

Apparently he had waited too long between lovers, he realized ruefully. He had virtually no control and little will to temper his desire. Her hands tightened in his hair and she moaned into his mouth, threatening to destroy what little sanity he had left. He yanked her out of the chair, lifting her into the air, astonished at how light she was as he held her aloft with one arm.

He pressed her body to his, the contrast of her heat shocking against his own; in places where her flesh came into contact with what little flesh he had left it was almost unbearably erotic. Less then half his body was still human, it was almost unbelievable that he could still experience such wanting,

He sat down in the chair he'd removed her from, and sat her in his lap. Warning bells went off in Omizu's head when she slid her legs over his hips and the evidence of his arousal pressed against her. She was having a hard time thinking; he was incredibly attractive and he obviously was sexually drawn to her. What had started out as a kiss had quickly blown up into something far more.

She wasn't sure if she wanted this or not. Well, that was a lie because just kissing him had made her wet. She wanted it; but she wasn't sure doing this was right. She'd just met him, and what if that nice man Hiruko walked in and saw them? The idea was mortifying.

She tore her mouth away from his and moaned, "Please stop, we can't…Hiruko might see us."

Sasori registered her words, but heard them as if from far away. It took a moment for him to realize she was actually struggling against his suggestion implant, in order to save someone else's feelings. She was really something else, her willpower was impressive but there was no way he could let her go at this point. He could feel her desire for him; it was scalding in its wet heat, making thinking rationally virtually impossible.

"Don't worry, he's in bed," Sasori managed to grit out, and it was true: the puppet had been put away.

His words held a pleading edge, and they overwhelmed her token resistance…


	3. Chapter 3

Three

The sex had been phenomenal, a shattering experience for Sasori, who had thought he had put sexual need behind him years ago. But Omizu brought out his lust, he did things to her that he'd never bothered to do with other women. In the past he had been selfish and abrupt; getting off and taking his leave so to speak. With Omizu he didn't want it to end. He gave her almost as much pleasure as she gave him, and he liked it. It had shaken him.

He kept her for an entire month. By all rights he should have been injured during those endless hours of hot sex. There was an urgency between them that had led to rough quickies more often then not. As the days wore on and he felt no lessening in his desire for her, his concern grew.

Sasori was used to needing no one; and he had certainly never lusted after a woman so intensely. He couldn't stop thinking about her; she was in his dreams as well as his bed. He'd never had such an open, responsive partner. He tried to convince himself that was why she was so enthralling.

He finally sent her home, not because he was tired of her but because he was determined to put her from his mind. He left the workshop that same day, never to return. But he had never succeeded in putting her from his thoughts. Even as he removed more and more of his body in an effort to banish her presence, she remained in his memory. To the present day, he knew where she was.

She had never married, never found another man. Part of him was fiercely glad; she was his, even if he was unwilling to claim her. But the greater part of him was worried for her safety and knew that no woman could ever have a genuine relationship with him due to his obsession with remaking the human body. And so he had arranged for her to be taken in by the Akatsuki should he die. And it was no surprise to him that, as he stood dying, he thought of her as well as his family.

How funny it was that he had spent his entire life asserting his independence, only to think of those he had given himself to in death. As the light faded from his eyes, his last memory was of Omizu, asleep on his chest, her head tucked under his chin and her hair surrounding them in her sweet scent, and the peace he had always felt with her returned to claim him.

**xXx**

Kisame stood outside the small house in the tiny village in the Land of Fire, and once again cursed Sasori for the burden of escorting some young girl to an Akatsuki safe house. Such places were meant for members only, but refusing Sasori's request wasn't an option, since it had a suggestion back up imprinted in his mind. This was a fact that Kisame didn't appreciate in the least.

He was somewhat curious as to whom the girl was; Sasori had never spoken of her and frankly it was difficult to imagine the Puppet Master having a girlfriend, seeing as how his body was more or less artificial by the end. He had indulged in some affairs that the group knew about but those involved some highly unusual individuals; barely human themselves and really more of an experimentation then anything to do with love. She must have been from his past then; making her more intriguing. Sasori had seemed to cut all ties with his past, yet here one remained.

With a sigh of irritation, he raised his hand and pounded on the front door.

"Just a moment," a woman's voice called out, and he could hear shuffling around in the house before the sound of small steps running to the door.

The female that answered was nothing like he'd expected. Sasori had taken lovers on occasion while he'd been with the Akatsuki and without fail they were very voluptuous, sublimely erotic individuals. This girl was delicate with striking eyes and a demure beauty; the complete opposite of the women Sasori had seemed to favor. Kisame wondered if he had the right house; maybe the woman had moved. It would serve Sasori right for messing with his head.

She had to lean her head back to look up at him; she met his gaze directly, not even flinching at his unusual eyes. He had covered most of his face to hide his features but there was nothing he could do to disguise his eyes. She seemed either not to notice or care that they were white and lacking in normal structure.

"Can I help you," she asked in a curious voice; clearly unafraid even though he towered over her by more then a foot and was over double her mass.

She was either fearless or naïve; it was hard to believe this might be the girl Sasori had cared about enough to see to her welfare from the grave. "I am looking for a woman by the name of Omizu."

She titled her head inquisitively to one side. "Well, you have found her."

Kisame's eyes widened in surprise, he had actually thought there was no way this girl could have belonged to Sasori. He clearly didn't know the Puppet Master as well as he'd thought. It was hard to accept that such a pixie could have held the man's jaded interest.

"Um, well, I was sent on behalf of Sasori of the Red Sand," he began, only to pause when the girl's face drained of color moments before her eyes closed and she dropped to the floor.

Kisame caught her before she hit the ground; he was gifted with incredible speed and years of training had only increased his natural abilities. She weighed practically nothing, he held her easily in his embrace. She smelled of sunshine and spring at close range. Her innocence was palpable; obvious in her serene expression. She clearly knew Sasori if simply hearing his name had made her faint.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, not sure what to do with the girl. His mission was to bring her to Pein at one of the safe houses. He could just leave with her now, but he suspected Sasori meant for her to start a new life after his death; meaning leaving all of her resources behind might not be a good idea. She would probably need money at the very least.

With a sigh, he walked into the house and closed the door. He had been granted as much time as needed to fulfill the mission; Nagato was under the same geas he was and not happy about it either. Apparently the girl had been very important to Sasori; he'd placed a suggestion to see to her welfare in each member of Akatsuki.

Unfortunately for Kisame, his was slightly more extensive. Perhaps because of his tendency to be loyal, Sasori had also chosen Kisame to act as her guardian in his stead. He had more or less inherited the little baggage. He had been furious about it, but he'd hoped the woman would be modern and vicious like most of Sasori's flings and so he hadn't been too concerned because such a woman wouldn't need his protection really. Now that he'd met Omizu, he was worried as hell.


End file.
